


Lost Shoes, Water-soluble Aliens, and an Awful lot of Running.

by whooves



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Aliens, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, How Rory Williams started travelling with the tenth Doctor, humor and stuff, lost shoes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-24
Updated: 2013-06-24
Packaged: 2017-12-16 01:46:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/856370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whooves/pseuds/whooves
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aliens in a hospital, and Rory Williams definitely does not get paid enough for this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lost Shoes, Water-soluble Aliens, and an Awful lot of Running.

He’s just coming off his shift, exiting the hospital doors, looking both ways before he crosses heading towards the parking garage, when a great brown blur tackles him to the ground and shoves a buzzing blue stick in his face. Although to be fair, it isn’t a blur, it’s a man. And it’s not a buzzing blue stick, but Rory’s not quite sure what it is.

“Um…excuse me,” he begins, sprawled on his back, with the other man half over his face and chest, shining the blue instrument in his eyes. What he had previously thought to be a rather agile bear is actually a lanky man, with a wild mop of brown hair. His tongue is in between his teeth as he concentrates directly on Rory’s face. His look of concentration falters, and slowly turns into a frown. Rory tries again. “Can I help you?” The man stands up and turns away, looking frustrated.

“You’re human,” he says, confusedly.

“Is that a problem?” Rory asks. Upon further investigation, the man is a bit taller than he is, and wearing a brown pinstriped suit. He offers Rory a hand and he takes it, getting to his feet.

“No. Well, yes. Well, not really, but you’re not who I’m looking for. Well, to be fair you’re dressed exactly like them, but—” Rory cuts him off and smoothes down the shirt of his nurse’s scrubs.

“Sorry, who?”

“The Baraxian Squadron 4, they wear the…” he trails off, looking Rory up and down, indicating his outfit.

“The Barxi—what?” The man is still looking around furiously, pointing his silver and blue kitchen utensil (really, it looks like some futuristic whisk or something) at the hospital. He eagerly looks at the readings it’s taking and whoops.

“Baraxians. Scavengers of the other side of the galaxy. Don’t know why they’re here really. Well, I know why they’re here here, you’ve got a nice little pocket of potent temporal energy up in that room on the fourth floor, but I don’t know why they’d be even remotely close to Earth.” Rory’s feeling dumber by the second, is someone playing a trick on him? “Still, looks like they’re planning a takeover,” he murmurs, scanning the fourth floor again. He turns back to Rory, directly addressing him this time. “Sorry, what was your name?”

“Rory Williams?” He says it tentatively, wondering if this is some sort of on-the-job test. He hadn’t signed up for this kind of madness when he started working here. (Mrs. Hutchinson in Room 208 with her crazy eyes and wandering hands is enough excitement for him to endure here.)

“Well, Rory Williams, carry on! But by all means, go home, make yourself a cup of tea, fill out another job application, enjoy your evening! Allons-y!” He says this last bit as he’s running towards the front doors of the hospital, a battle-cry of sorts.

Rory does the maddest, daftest thing he can think of, and runs after him.

Ten minutes later, he’s sure of a few things, and less-sure of most other things. First of all, he’s following a man called the Doctor, who is (almost) certainly not a doctor. Second of all, whatever’s been on the second floor of the hospital is _slimy_ ; he’s been sliding in the gunk for the past four minutes. Third, what the Doctor carries is not for baking, but rather referred to as a ‘sonic screwdriver.’ Things he’s not sure of, include but are not limited to: if he’ll still have a job after today, if the Doctor is human, where the wall to the North side of this wing of the hospital is, and the location of his left shoe. 

“Doctor!” he shouts at the man who’s currently slipping around on the floor about five strides in front of him. 

“Bit busy right now, Rory!” He flaps his arms for balance, but falls back on his butt anyways. He scrabbles to the wall and pulls himself up unceremoniously. 

“No, but whatever room is above us is…glowing.” He points to the ceiling helpfully, and the Doctor follows his gaze. He breaks out into excited laughter and grins at Rory, who smiles back a bit worriedly. Together they make their way to the stairwell and the Doctor sonics the bottoms of his Converses clean before trying to take on the stairs. He turns to Rory’s feet and stops. 

“Where’s your shoe got to?” He looks at Rory like he’s the mad one.

“Dunno,” he shrugs, “lost it when that blue-shirted thing came at us. The Doctor raises his eyebrows, and shoves a hand down in his jacket pocket. To Rory’s surprise, his elbow almost disappears as he digs inside. He open-mouthedly gapes at the Doctor.

“What?” the Doctor genuinely looks confused. “Trans-dimensional pockets,” he says by way of explanation. This, of course, doesn’t help at all. Furthermore, he pulls a trainer out of his pocket and hands it to Rory. “Should fit, go on.” And he bounds up the stairs, Rory hopping after him, still trying to put on the shoe.

The Doctor skids to a halt in front of room 314, which has a young child in a hospital bed, surrounded by tall men (aliens) in blue scrubs (Rory has a sickening feeling that they’re not scrubs, but rather alien skin.) Their feet are glowing a glorious blue, and it’s making the floor rather warm.

The Doctor natters on at the aliens for a good five minutes about trespassing and some shadow proclamation thing before actually _doing_ anything, and when he does something it’s ask Rory for his gum. He takes it out of his mouth and gingerly hands it to the Doctor, who mashes it between his palms. He sticks it on the hospital bed frame, and races over to sonic the fire alarm. Water almost immediately shoots out of the vents in the ceiling, a bit rusty at first. Rory worries about the other patients and begins to open his mouth but the Doctor waves him off.

“It’s only going off in here, don’t worry! Consolidated the signal!”

As it hits the aliens they hiss, and begin to disintegrate. After a minute or two, Rory and the Doctor are left standing in puddles of water, and goop that Rory would really rather imagine isn’t melted alien. The boy in the hospital bed just smiles at them calmly.

“What was the gum for?” Rory asks, wiping water out of his eyes. The Doctor pushes his hair out of his eyes and turns toward Rory.

“Gum? Oh…the bed was squeaking…” he says weakly, trailing off as he even notices his own apparent insanity.

“And the um…water-soluble aliens?” He points at the floor.

“Oh, they’re alright. They can separate consciousness from body so they’ll be floating around as particles until they find the way back to their ship.” He shrugs. Rory’s saved from having to comment by a glowing red orb outside the window, large enough to set several people in. “Oh, brilliant!” He’s very excited, jumping up and down, splashing in the puddles at his feet. He backs away from the window with a large grin. “That really is brilliant, though.” At Rory’s pained expression, he explains. “That’ll be his ride.” He nods to the boy in the bed.

Before Rory can ask further questions, what can only be described as a tractor bean directs itself through the window and collects the boy.

“Rather good timing,” the Doctor muses. “Ah, well, Allons-y!” He saunters out of the room, leaving a wet and confused Rory to follow him down the stairs, out the exit, and to the corner of the parking garage.

“So that boy…” Rory’s trying to wrap his head around the events of the past hour.

“Was an alien,” the Doctor clarifies. “Big important temporal being! Energy by the megatons! Hitch him up to an engine and it’ll run forever.”

“And he was here because…?”

“Not sure. Crash landing, maybe? Protection? Who knows.” He looks rather unconcerned at the fact. But then his brow twists. “Though I am wondering why the Baraxians were here. That’s something worth checking out.” His eyes unfocus, and Rory has the feeling the Doctor’s looking at something inside his head.

“And what’s that?” Rory gestures to the unfamiliar blue box behind the Doctor. He snaps out of it and looks backward at the box.

“Well, Rory Williams, this is my ride,” he grins and pats the box. “Nice to meet you, lovely really, had a great time, you’re rather quick on your feet, that’ll do you good! Sorry about, well…your job. And your clothes. And your shoe. See you around.” He puts a key in the blue box, and opens the door, but pauses. He turns around hesitantly and glances at Rory.

“That is, unless you’d like to come along?” His expression is hopeful and curious.

“Come where?” Rory asks. The Doctor shrugs.

“Anywhere.”


End file.
